


Gone Before Light

by sweetrupturedlight



Series: Annamis: Endless Drabbles [7]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetrupturedlight/pseuds/sweetrupturedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Aramis and Anne steal a night together and talk about their childhood</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Before Light

Aramis awoke before dawn, his extensive training as a soldier more effective than any wake-up-call from a fellow Musketeer or their Captain. Even before he opened his eyes, his senses stirred, orientating himself to his surroundings. First there was smell – the scent of lavender and lemons wafting to greet him, the soft fragrance relaxing his muscles and sending his mind easily adrift. Then there was touch – the feel of a body pressed against him, back to his front, his arms wrapped around the warmth it generated. Instinctively he must have tightened his hold because Anne stirred, pressing back into him.

"Please, not yet." Her voice was soft, the barest of whispers as she burrowed closer. Her hair was a silken tangle as he brushed his fingers through it.

"It's almost dawn. Athos will be waiting," he said, his arms drawing her closer despite his words. His lips pressed to the back of her head, the scent of lavender stronger as it clung to the golden strands.

She sighed. "Constance will be here soon."

"Our keepers." He pressed another kiss to her hair and she turned in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Heaven knew they had tried to maintain a respectful distance. It had made him more miserable than he could ever remember being but he would have bore it until the end of his days. But perhaps God did work in mysterious ways. An accidental fire in the Queen's old quarters had meant she had to relocate to other accommodations in the Louvre. As fortune would have it, her new apartments – once the apartments of Cardinal Richelieu - had a secret passageway that Constance had stumbled upon one evening. The passageway linked with the secret tunnels beneath the Louvre that the Musketeers had discovered months prior. It meant that Aramis could venture into the Queen's private apartments at night and leave long before anyone could discover his presence. He was always careful, meticulously so, and therefore never stayed beyond dawn.

"Tell me again," Anne whispered into the darkness as she hugged him close. He loved the intimacy of these moments before dawn. He could barely see anything, but he could feel her in his arms, smell her sweet scent as she lay close. Easing onto his back, Aramis tucked her into his side, his hand playing with the strands of hair fanning out across his arm.

"What is it about my childhood that you find so fascinating your Majesty?"

"Everything."

Despite their love and familiarity, Aramis refused to call her by anything other than her formal title. He would not risk ever becoming so familiar that her name or an endearment might slip beyond his lips when others might hear it. Staring into the darkness, he tried to include details he might not have mentioned before.

"I grew up in a close, loving home. My parents were poor, but they were happy. My father always used to tell us that wealth should be measured in the love of family. If that were the measure of riches, we were among the royal."

He could feel her smile as her cheek creased against his chest.

"By that token, I would be among the poor," she replied. "I was privileged, but never free. My mother died birthing my brother, Alphonse, when I was ten. He was born on my birthday. Did you know that?" Aramis shook his head and Anne settled again. "He was a beautiful baby, so happy, despite the unfortunate consequence of his birth. He died a year later."

"I am sorry," Aramis said, knowing the words were a cold comfort.

She shook her head. "It was so long ago. My father was in a daze after my mother's death. She wielded much influence with him and they shared a genuine affection. A year after she passed I was betrothed to Louis and on my way to France. In reality, I had closer relationships with my governesses than I did with my mother. But it was no fault of her own."

Aramis pressed swift kisses to her temple. He could not imagine anyone not loving her.

"And your siblings?" He knew these things of course. But he supposed he loved to hear her speak of her life before him, just as she enjoyed listening to him. For both of them, it was a glimpse into a tantalising world the other could never understand or be a part of.

"Eight in total, although only four of us survived to adulthood. Philip, my eldest brother,"  _and King of Spain,_  Aramis reminded himself silently, "has always been an academic. For as long as I can remember he always yearned for knowledge. His reputation as being rather stoic is a public facade," she said with a wry lilt to her voice. "He has a keen sense of humour and was always naturally gentle and affable." She sighed. "I am sorry for the distance between us. And the strain my marriage places on our relationship."

"And the others?"

"Marianna and I have always been close. I felt her loss the most when I left France. But she married soon after and also left home. We write often. I think you would like her," Anne added with a smile. "She is intelligent and happy-tempered. Like my mother, she is also truly a partner to her husband - something I have never quite managed to accomplish."

Anne sighed again, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Aramis did not interrupt her, just ran his fingers up and down her back in a lazy, hypnotic rhythm.

"Charles and I had no relationship. He had... behavioural problems as a child... He was wilful and disobedient and was generally kept apart from the rest of the family. Everyone feared that somehow his defiance would spread and so he was isolated. I always thought it a cruel punishment." Her voice had saddened with deep regret. "He died young, like our mother. God rest their souls."

Aramis had heard rumours that the young prince had suffered from a mental malady. He shared her sentiment that the isolation seemed unkind because of his affliction.

"And Ferdinand. Father wished that he make an ecclesiastical career and he is now Cardinal-Infante. We are on friendly terms, although we do not converse as much as I would like. Do you miss your sister Aramis?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I too wish I could see her more often. But she has a good life. She married for love and I have three beautiful nieces."

He could not hold the pride from his voice.

"And are they adventurous little girls? Like their uncle?" she teased.

He laughed, the sound a low rumble. "Like their mother, more like. My sister was always like one of the boys. Fierce. Independent. Excellent with a sword, a musket and even her fists when she needed to be."

"She sounds like an amazing woman. I envy her freedom."

He nodded, nostalgic for a moment. "She has the largest brown eyes, always smiling."

"She's like you then." Anne placed a soft kiss to his chest.

"Like our father. He was a kind man." Aramis chuckled. "I have yet to see another woman wield a sword as competently as mi hermana. Although Constance might be a close second."

Anne laughed too. "D'artagnan's influence."

"Constances'  _insistence_ ," he corrected.

"When I was a little girl all I wanted to do was be outside with my brothers. Marianna and I would stare out of the windows and watch them ride their horses or practice swordplay with their tutors. I wanted so badly to ride too. One day I ventured to the stables and begged the stable hand to let me ride around the paddock. He could not refuse, although he was reluctant. It was thrilling, even though we were at a very slow cantor. But I fell and injured my ankle. My father was furious and I never saw that stable hand again. I learnt the hard way that the whims of a monarch could cost people their livelihoods. I did what was expected of me ever since. I learnt to play the piano, speak French and Latin and embroider. No useful skills at all."

He pressed his lips against her hair. "You learnt patience, courage, endurance after everything you have had to confront and manage since your arrival in a foreign country."

"Yet I cannot wield a blade or shoot a musket-"

Aramis raised her chin and their eyes met, having adjusted to the dark. "Not all wars are waged on the battlefield, your Majesty." They both knew she was the one with the true understanding of the complexities of running a country.

She was quiet for a moment. "It would be nice to shoot a musket though."

Aramis chuckled, highly amused. "Perhaps I could teach you the theory. I fear the practical might not be too..."

"Practical?"

"Quite."

The horizon was now bathed in an orange glow. Dawn was upon them.

"I must go," he whispered, seeking the lips that naturally found his.

He slipped from the bed and Anne rose too, shrugging into her robe. Her hair, slightly mussed, but rendering her no less beautiful, was gathered and hung down her left shoulder. He tugged on a strand and smiled at her as he clipped his pistol onto his belt. Collecting her into his arms for their final adieu, Aramis pressed his lips to hers.

"Good morning your Majesty."

"Good morning Monsieur." He watched her eyes warm with affection, the corners of her lips turning up. "The Dauphin might be with me tomorrow."

His heart stopped. It was too much to wish for. "I live in hope."

She pressed their foreheads together. "I love you. Never forget it."

"You too. Always."

He pressed a final kiss to her hand before disappearing through the concealed doorway and hurrying through the darkness.


End file.
